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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Frenemy of My Friend"  You're all for going out to meet Bhodi and his friends right away, but Caleb insists on waiting until you hear from them. Then, when you suggest heading back over to the Sunshine Diner—"We can hang out with Sean and Terry, man, get free pancakes and coffee"—Caleb says he doesn't want to be seen in public with you. "Come on, Jojo," you goad him. "You're acting like you don't like me." Caleb grabs up a fully loaded backpack, and you dive off the bed as he hurls it at you. You poke your head up with a laugh. "A'right, a'right, you made your point, I'll cut it out." You clamber back onto the bed as Caleb glowers. "But Spencer's not so bad, not from where I'm sitting. If you'd just loosen up, man— And goin' over to the diner, shittin' around with Sean and Terry, would be just the thing to loosen you up." "I don't need to loosen up, Will." "You got the tightest asshole, Jojo— Uh, Caleb," you correct yourself as his nostrils flare. "Come on, at least sit down!" Caleb looks around, then sits stiffly in a chair. You roll your eyes. "Dane, man," you call out to the golem. "Take a load off too." You pat the bed. "You like me, don't you?" you ask as he crawls onto the bed next to you. "Uh, sure. I'm supposed to, right?" "Sure. I mean, shit, man, Spencer and the Danester are, like, five of the three musketeers all by themselves." "Yeah," Caleb drawls, "how about you ask Dane over there what he thinks of Spencer. You got a copy of your own brain in there, don't you?" For the first time since putting Spencer's mask on, you feel your good humor challenged. "I don't need to know what I think of Spencer, I already know. Besides, Fake-Dane here'd watch his words anyway. Wouldn't you?" The golem winces. "But seriously, man," you tell Caleb, "how we gonna hang out together if you're gonna hold this grudge?" "It's not a grudge, Will," Caleb sighs. "I just don't like him." "Maybe we could turn you into someone who does?" "It would still be a problem." "Well, I'm still gonna come bother you, I'll just try not to be a dick when I do. Oh hey, what does Tilley think of Spencer?" "The topic of Spencer Osbourne doesn't ever come up. Do you ever remember talking about him, Will?" "I guess you're right. Then you slap your hands over your face. "Oh man! Head rush. Brain rush!" You put your face between your knees. "Jesus!" "What's wrong?" You grin up at him, even as you blink through eyes that are suddenly watering. "You know who I'm gonna get to fucking hang out with? Who I've been hanging out with?" Caleb frowns at the question. "Only Will Prescott!" Caleb blinks. "Uh, sure, Will. Since you're—" "No, you fucking clown show!" You look for something to hurl at Caleb, but there's nothing at hand. "Gordon! The guy who's pretending to be me! He's gotten tight with Colson and a couple of the other guys, like, same group as Spencer. Fuck!" You bounce on the bed. "I just remembered I— He— Spencer— He was there when Gordon started talking about what Chelsea's cunny tastes like!" Caleb flinches. "And Gordon, too! Spencer's been hangin' out with the guy who looks like Gordon, but, you know, who's really—" You grab Fake-Dane by the head. "The original Danester's been hangin' out most days now at the portables with Spencer and some other guys most periods! Shit, man, this is gonna be awesome! Well, weird, but also fuckin'—" "Have they figured out there's anything wrong with him?" "With who, Gordon?" "The guy who's looking like Gordon. Or the guy who's looking like you, for that matter. Aside from the way you say he's been—" Caleb makes a face. "Talking about Chelsea's cunny." "You mean has anyone noticed that Gordon Black has turned into a spaced-out, pot-smoking chimpanzee? No, they all think that's totally normal! Jesus!" "Well, has Dane said anything about, like, body swapping? Not him!" Caleb snorts when you glance at Fake-Dane. "The real Dane." "No, he's not said anything. Well, not that Spencer's heard." You try to recollect. "He's just taking it in and enjoying it, I guess. He's getting a belly, though. He was all flat and hard"—You drum your stomach, which is flabby without being paunchy"—"when he first showed up, but he's got the munchies bad, I guess, since Gordon needs to eat, like, five buffalos, wings and all, every day, and I figure Dane's eatin' more'n that and he's not working out. Jesus, he's gonna turn into a land whale by Christmas, the way he's ballooning out. But he's getting laid for now, so he's got that at least." Caleb shakes his head in wonderment. For the next thirty minutes, until a text comes from Joe Dickerson, you regale him with stories about the transformed Dane Matthias and Gordon Black. * * * * * You drive out separately to the meeting place, for Caleb still doesn't want to be seen with you, and he's got to pick up some of the guys anyway. So you reach the municipal athletic fields before he does. You pace as you wait, disliking the scene. The Morris Clevenger Community Athletic Fields are a major complex of soccer, baseball, and football fields next to a large park and serviced by two major traffic arteries. They are deserted at the moment, but that leaves you feeling even more conspicuous. Why in the hell do Bhodi and them think that they can knock out Andrew Webb and make a substitution in an open place where anyone driving by can see? Caleb had only shrugged when you put the same question to him. Five minutes after you arrive, though, you discover it's too late to make a change in plans. A dirt bike comes shooting into the parking, and Andrew Webb jumps off it. You have mostly forgotten the day that you played Bhodi Weaver at school, but the sight of Andrew brings part of it back. He's the asshole soccer player you got in a fight with. He's a normal-size guy, though being a sophomore he's a little shorter than you. He's dressed out in a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts, showing smooth skin and budding muscles. He is very pink, as though he's suffered a light sunburn all over, but his skin is still pale under the pink. His hair, which is buzzed very close to his scalp, is a whitish blonde. He has little piggy eyes, an upturned nose, and rosy lips that curve easily into a smirk. He smirks at you now when he catches you looking at him, and he goes rigid all over so that his muscles bulge out. You roll your eyes and look away and resume pacing. But after a few minutes you decide it's stupid to ignore him. "Hey," you yell over at him. "What's your name?" "The fuck is it to you?" he hollers back. "Don't be a dickhead, man! I'm supposed to meet some guys here and I'm thinking maybe you're one of them!" "Andrew!" "You got a last name, Andrew?" "Webb!" His expression turns wary as you trudge over to him. "So hey, I'm Spencer," you tell him. "You know another guy named Andy? Or a Joe Dickerson?" "Yeah, I'm s'posed to meet 'em here." He peers at you. "The fuck you got to do with it?" "I dunno." You dig out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. "Guy I know, Jojo Johansson, said to meet him here, meet up with a guy named Andy and a guy named Joe and a guy named ... something." "Bhodi?" "Maybe. Somethin' funny." Andrew stares, then cackles. "We all call him Apu," he chortles, "'cept when the teacher's listening, 'cos then they get pissed at you." "Like I give a shit and like there's any teachers around." You offer him a cigarette; he shakes his head; you light one and squint over the smoke. "The fuck is it all about, man?" "We're havin' a fight. Me and Bhodi." He crosses his arms so that his muscles bulge. "Fucking wanker." "A fight, huh?" You grin. "Like, punch each other till first blood?" "I dunno. It's fucking bullshit. He's got a height advantage, but—" He mimes punching you in the stomach. "Nngh, nngh! Fucking wanker." "What's it about? A girl." You let your smile turn into a leer. "Nah. Well, maybe. Mostly it's to do with him being a fucking wanker—" "Yeah, you keep saying that." Andrew catches himself, and his stare turns icy. "Yeah, well, we're on the soccer team together, you know? And he's always bitching 'cos he thinks he's better than he is." "Meaning he's not as good as you, huh?" You take a drag and hold it in. "Pfft." He puffs out his chest. "I'm gonna be squad captain my senior year." He smirks down his nose at you. You blow a stream of smoke into his face. "That's awesome. You got my vote." He glares at you, then looks over your shoulder. "Here's someone now," he says. "Fuck. They drove out." You turn. Caleb has parked, and he and four other guys—Bhodi, Andy Jensen, Joe Dickerson, and Justin Orr—pile out. "Hey, Apu!" Andrew yells. "Who's your fucking driver?" "Don't call him that," you remind him. "It pisses the teachers off." "So are you ready to do this?" Bhodi calls out as he and the others walk up. "Are you?" Andrew retorts. "Yeah, are you?" you echo. Bhodi and the others give you a puzzled look. Jesus, you think at them. Get out the fucking mask. Isn't that what we're here for? "I'm sick of your shit, man," Bhodi tells Andrew. "You got a shitty attitude, and I'm gonna see it gets fixed." "Come at me, bro." Andrew puts his hands on his hips and grins. No one moves, but eyes dart about. Christ. You grab Andrew Webb from behind in a bear hug. Next: "The Field of Play" |
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